Aftermath
by Bruceluce
Summary: What House went through in the mental institution and how his friends helped him. Will branch out Huddy-style. I was mainly concerned with not writing out of character. Tell me what you think.
1. White hot pain and new outlooks

1.

"Mr House, James Wilson is asking for you on the phone. Do you want to take the call?" the secretary's voice chimed out from House's personal phone in his room in Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital.

House flinched, hesitating, then finally:

"Yes."

There was a click and then Wilson's voice:

"Heyyy..."

"Hey." House answered.

"How you feeling?"

"As good as a nervous breakdown gets" House wondered if he hadn't made a mistake in taking the call, it was going to be difficult.

"Yeah I can imagine."A rather awkward silence ensued. It had now been almost three weeks since House had walked in the mental institution, and it was the first time they spoke since that dreadful day.

"I've been keeping track of how you're doing through your doctor and he didn't feel like you were ready to talk to anyone yet. I know the first two weeks were hell. "

The doctor had indeed told Wilson that the first two weeks were mainly about weaning House off Vicodin. And of course that had been a painful and ugly process.

"I guess the fact that he's letting me talk to you means you're better now."Wilson paused, hoping House would take up from there and open up.

"It _has_ been bad" House admitted, before pausing again. "But yeah I guess I'm better now. Certainly better than when I walked in here."

He shuddered as he remembered it all, the escalation from tormenting hallucinations to vivid delusions, the feeling of powerlessness when he realised what was going on and the ensuing utter terror. Not to mention the long hours of breaking free from the Vicodin. Fever, nausea, vertigos, nightmares: he had experienced it all, withering in his bed in both physical and mental pain. At some point when his brain was on fire it had felt like that's all he was, a ball of white-hot pain. He had been virtually unconscious of himself for 14 days, only conscious of those who visited him in his nightmares in the shape of spiteful ghosts. For some reason his parents were very present in these nightmares.

But then he had gotten better, his body getting used to running without the opiates. In the beginning he had felt like his mind was completely numb. He tried so hard not to think about it all. The docs had wanted to give him drugs to help with that but he had categorically refused, feeling that it would only mean it would be harder to face the truth when it would eventually had to be faced. And so he had spent two days in a vegetative state, just staring blankly out of his window, taking the time to allow his brain to take it all slowly in. The nurses and doctors had done their best to keep out of his way, knowing that what he needed right now was to lull his brain into a very much needed sleep.

But not using his intellect was the very thing Gregory House wasn't good at. It had already been three days since he had ventured out of the two-day comatose state, and it had been three long days. He mainly kept to himself in his room, brooding. He'd think about his life, what he'd done with it and what was left of it. He'd think about what defined him as a person. He'd wonder what had gone so wrong that he had ended up here. In the afternoon he'd have long talks with his shrink and as much as he hated to admit it, it actually gave him new outlooks on things and helped him dwell deeper into the source of his ailing. Somehow this second phase after the rehab was just as hard, suddenly he could no longer ignore issues which he had spent his entire lifetime deflecting about. At times when he wanted to stop thinking he forced his mind to go blank by reciting prime numbers. It was the only way he could fall asleep.

So although he had instinctively flinched at being brought back to the world –the real, _outside_ world– by Wilson, he welcomed the distraction and felt grateful to hear his best friend's voice again.

"No more delusions?" asked Wilson.

"Don't think so. The very thing about a delusion is you don't know it's one. How do I know I'm actually here, talking to you on the phone, and not passed out from too much scotch on my couch? How can I tell what's real from what's not?" There was another silence, but it was less awkward as House could tell that Wilson was listening and getting his point, not treating him as if he were a nutcase like his doctors and nurses kind of did –although they tried not to. To know that someone could understand the thoughts that were tormenting him, that he was not utterly alone, was such a relief!

"At times I feel like I'm in the Matrix or something, that in the end all of this is just a creation of my mind" House continued.

"Maybe it is, said Wilson. Maybe we all are nothing more but mere sources of energy for some evil aliens."

He had said this last bit in an "impending doom" voice which had him and House share a short, quiet laugh.

Wilson continued: "It doesn't matter ultimately though does it? All that matters is that what your mind is creating isn't making you completely miserable. Might as well enjoy yourself. Cause that's all you've got"

There was a pause during which they considered this rather chilling thought. And yet ultimately it was very true.

"But I don't believe it's all an illusion though, Wilson picked up again. They are times when you wake up in the morning and the light's just right, or when you feel the sun on your face, or when there's a specially good song on the radio...you just feel so... _alive_. It can't all be a lie."

"And yet maybe it is. The great big existential lie. " House paused, switching his mood. "But yeah as you said, it doesn't matter in the end. Just got to enjoy yourself." Another reflective pause ensued."Missed your unrelenting optimism though." House said in a typical House voice.

Wilson smiled. "I missed you too." There wasn't anyone else he could have this sort of talk with. He really missed his best friend.

At this moment House realised something wasn't quite right. He hadn't heard anything and Wilson hadn't mentioned it, but House could just feel it. Cuddy was in the room with Wilson, anxious to know how he was doing too.

And so House asked Wilson to put Cuddy on the phone.

For a second Wilson was dumbfounded. How had he known? But it wasn't the first time House pulled something like that, and he was glad he could still do it. House was still House and that was a good thing."Sure" he said in a chirpy voice, handing the phone to Cuddy who was standing just a few feet away.


	2. Letting the cat out

2.

"Hi" said Cuddy, rather timidly.

House answered in an unusually soft voice:

"Hi."

"How are you? Cuddy asked, trying hard to hide how much she was concerned, but failing.

"Better, thank you." There was a pause as House knew Wilson had shared with her what he learned from his doctor and he didn't feel like going through more details.

"How are you? How's Rachel?"

Cuddy was rather startled at the genuine concern in his voice and the general softness of it. Not to mention he had called her daughter by her name. She didn't know what to say. She hadn't been expecting to talk about herself.

Truth is, she didn't have a clue how she was doing. Work was work. The hospital was quieter without House, there was no denying it. But it was also so much more boring. She missed him. She had –as House had guessed– been kept up to date on House's state via Wilson and she had worried a lot. She could only imagine how he must have felt walking into the mental institution, and that alone kept her awake many nights. House had asked her not to come with him and Wilson, yet she felt like she should have.

She herself had done lots of thinking, without ever coming to a conclusion. She admitted she felt something special for House. As to what it was and what she was going to do about it, she had no clue. Mostly, as always, it would depend on what he wanted. The only thing she could be sure of right now was the love she felt for her daughter. It was a good beginning. And so that's what she said:

"Good. We're doing good."

"I'm glad" said House.

Then, slowly, hesitatingly:

" Listen... I wanted to apologise. I know it's very cliché and all... but really. I'm sorry for all the shit I put you through, mostly what I said, about you and Rachel... you know." His voice trailed off.

"I know. Apologies accepted." She paused, searching for the right words. "And you know, you don't have to be sorry. About jerking me around I mean. You're being yourself. And I happen to miss it."

"You do?"House asked, genuinely surprised and puzzled.

"Of course!"Cuddy said while her heart went to House. She could tell he had reached a point where he didn't think much of himself, and she was anxious to reassure him but had no idea how to. After all, this _was_ House.

"Even after what I called your daughter?"

"Well, OK, lately you might have crossed the line. But we both know that wasn't really you talking. And I also know that sarcasm and meanness are your ways of addressing issues that you feel strongly about. So, in a twisted way, I know that you giving me a hard time is just you caring about me. That's who you are."

She could tell House was really listening to her. Taking in her words and not just trying to bounce off them with a witty deflecting remark. She could tell he was really trying to understand more about himself, needing to know how other people saw him, needing to understand who he was and why.

"Yeah, I know. I wonder why though. I always was like that. Less before the leg, but still. I'm looking into this very original theory that it might have to do with my up-bringing", he added in his sarcastic voice.

Cuddy emitted a quiet laugh. There he was! She just had to dig a bit and there was the House she knew.

"Well, yeah, she took up. Of course parents fuck us up a little bit, they're bound to." House sniggered. "Becoming a mom has taught me that you can't be perfect: there are always some things that you're not going to handle very well, or have the adequate reaction at the right moment. But that's just being human. So of course Rachel will have issues of some sort, just like I do. But we all have some. It's what we _do_ about them that make us who we are."

House didn't say anything as he pondered her words. Parenthood had done her good, he could tell.

Cuddy on the other hand was rather surprised. She wasn't used to talking like that. In fact she didn't know she _felt_ like that about becoming a mom. House really had a way of being intellectually challenging. And she loved that in him.

Something caught House's attention, though:

"You said you had issues. Honestly? I mean, you're successful and smart and... you're not bad to look at" he finished abruptly, before saying something that might expose him. On the other end of the line Cuddy smirked, she knew how much he liked her body. House knew he had wanted to add a million other things to that list but he had chickened out. Again! he thought. One thing he had realised lately was that he loved Cuddy. Of course he didn't put it that way. But the fact that one side of his brain had took shelter in a romance with her when the other side was so intent on self-destruction was really telling. He could no longer deny the evidence. But he was, uncharacteristically, unsure and ashamed of himself. The way things had turned out, he was really wondering whether his mind was not ill, whether his whole way of being wasn't wrong. Why _did _he always feel the need to negate everything? Why was he such an ass? He had promised himself he'd quit being one to Cuddy. He had thought _maybe_, just maybe, if he ever felt like she _might _feel for him what he felt for her, he _might_ venture into _trying_ to tell her. He was honestly astonished at how scared this made him feel. This wasn't like him. It had to mean it really meant something to him. Right now he honestly couldn't see what issues Cuddy might have. To him, she was perfection.

"What kind of issues?" he asked softly, in earnest curiosity.

"Well how about being a workaholic unable to get love other than by taking in a crack baby? She paused. Don't get me wrong, of course I love Rachel...it's just... it would have been nice giving birth to the children of the man I love. "There! It was out. She didn't know if House would take the hint, but she had said it. Her heart pounded in her ears as she waited to hear what he would say next.

House had heard the hint. Or thought so. Maybe it wasn't a hint. Maybe she _wasn't _talking about him at all. Maybe she'd met someone. House was at a loss what to think, and so, for the first time in a very long time, he chose honesty over sarcasm, irony or verbal abuse. And after a silence which sounded very long to Cuddy and her pounding heart, he said:

"You see, this is the kind of situation where I need help. I just don't know what to say. Either you're just opening up to me and being general about wanting to actually give birth and all that... "

He paused. Expressing one's thoughts without deflecting was decidedly very difficult. He took a deep breath."Or you're hitting on me." He finished off, deciding that it was an eloquent enough way to put it. "But in either case I don't know what to do."

Cuddy smiled, relishing his honesty, the softness of his voice. That was new and very much appreciated. And still the way he had said "hitting on me" was so very deliciously _him_.

"Well to be honest this was a difficult one." House could hear the smile in her voice. "I'm still trying to work out what I meant."

She loved him, but had she really wanted to have kids with him? Would that have been possible at all?

She continued:"And so, I have no idea what I was expecting you to say. Or how I would have reacted. You see...sometimes you're like my white board: if I'm not sure about myself, about something I must do, must tell you or not, or how... I sort of tell you about it, or bring you to a situation where it will come up...and see how you react. And usually it helps me take a decision. Because in the end, as much as I don't like to encourage you and your ego... you're always right. So I guess I was trusting you to take the right cue on this one."

"Gregory House, love Doctor" House erupted.

The way he came up with that, so stoically and out of the blue, and yet knowing just how witty he was being, cracked Cuddy up. She laughed out loud, the first earnest laugh she had had in a long time. House grinned. "Still got it!" was what a little voice in his mind was telling him. Mostly though he was just enjoying hearing her, imagining he could see the tiny wrinkles that came up at the corner of her eyes whenever she smiled, revelling in the throaty sound of her laugh. He laughed too, albeit technically not for the same reason: she made him happy.


	3. Closed deal

3.

After a few seconds of laughing together, Cuddy continued: "You see, that's what I'm talking about. Even in this situation, you being in a..."

"Nut _house_" House offered, wanting to hear her laugh again.

"Well, yeah" she giggled some more. "But you know... I meant being in state where most people would completely lose it...you still manage to come with witty things like that and you just make me _laugh_. This is the first laugh I've had in ages, you know. I miss you so _much_. You're an exceptional person and I don't want you to forget it." The cat was clearly out of the bag now, but somehow she wasn't as scared anymore.

"I miss you too" he admitted, feeling a weight lift off his chest. "But I still think the price to pay for being myself is a little high" he said gravely.

Cuddy got back to a more serious tone: "Yes, well you just need to learn to cut yourself some slack. And no I don't mean do even less clinic hours then you already give me." House snorted. "Just stop being so afraid to make mistakes all the time and just be human. You don't let anything emotionally affect you 'coz you're afraid you're going to get hurt. And I don't know why you do that. But you just end up hurting yourself."

Again, House found himself pondering her words. How did she know him like that? Usually he would have been quite creeped out, but the truth was he couldn't deny it was true, he knew that's how he worked. He was tired of it, though. He had seen that it could only lead to a lonely miserable life, maybe following the path Kutner had taken on one night when it would get too bad. And he didn't want that. He was so glad she was there for him.

"Thank you" he said, earnestly.

Cuddy felt elated: he was well –a little bit shaky still– but what he had lost in confidence he had gained in honesty. And maybe they could still work it out after all.

"You're welcome!" she answered happily. "So when you getting out?"She wanted to take him away from his sombre thoughts.

"Oh. I dunno. Not yet. I'm not ready you know. To face the real world. I feel safe here, somehow. I don't have to do anything but think. And although they're not nice thoughts, I don't have to deal with anyone else, pretending to be someone I'm not so sure I want to be. You and Wilson are the only two people with whom I can drop the mask." He paused." I think I might, in a few days, like to have a visit from Wilson though." There was an awkward silence. "I'm sorry, I just don't want you to see me here. And it feels like we have a lot of things to tell each other and I'd rather it wasn't in a mental institution. Somehow that wouldn't give us a good start."

Cuddy couldn't help jump at the "us". She was disappointed about not seeing him soon but she had to admit he was right. Psychiatric wards creeped her out too. She had this image of the one where Bruce Willis meets Brad Pitt in the "Twelve Monkeys" movie. She couldn't imagine having the conversation she wanted to have with him in such a place. And she was glad him and Wilson would get some time together. They both needed it badly.

"That's ok, she said. Take your time. I'm not going anywhere anyway. Just ol' Plainsboro."

He laughed lightly at her impersonation of an old timer.

"OK. I had a great time talking to you. Don't worry too much about me. Say 'hi' to the team. And to the newlyweds."

" 'Will do. And House, this _is_ real." He knew she was referring to what he had told Wilson about not being able to tell reality from delusions. She didn't leave him the time to answer anything, not wanting to bring back to his mind the rather embarrassing memory of his sexual delusion about her.

"Do you want James back on the phone?"

"Yes please. Bye, Lisa."

Cuddy was taken aback by his using her first name. She only managed a weak "Goodbye" herself before handing the phone to Wilson, who had stood awkwardly at the other side of his office during the whole conversation, wanting to give them some privacy but also anxious at remaining within hear shot, very curious of the path things seemed to be taking.

"You wanna come down here sometime soon?" House asked in his usual 'it sounds like a question but it's really a request' voice.

"Sure", Wilson said, recognizing his friend and smiling.

"Ok, well you'd better hang up and ring my doctor back and set up an appointment. Not Tuesday, me and the mad hatter are going to a birthday party."

Wilson laughed, recognizing the Lewis Carroll reference.

"And would you be the white rabbit then? Or Alice maybe?" Both smiled. "OK, I'll set a day. See you soon then, take care."

"Same to you", he said rather gruffly, before hanging up. He was ready to change his ways with Cuddy, but Wilson would just have to wait.

Wilson placed the phone back on its receiver, still not believing what had happened during the last 15 minutes, and it was a little moment before he could look up at Cuddy. When he did he saw that her eyes were teary but that a big smile was plastered on her face. He was smiling from ear to ear too. Bouncing, she threw herself into her arms, now laughing out loud, relief resonating in her whoops and giggles.

"He's going to be OK, James! He's going to be OK!"

"Who knew he could add honesty and humility to the long list of his feats?" Wilson mused, still shaking his head in disbelief.

"Oooooh this is great "Cuddy cooed, now wiping her tears on Wilson's collar.

"You don't mind if I go visit him without you, do you? Wilson asked, ever the concerned type.

Cuddy smiled. Now that House had, as he had put it himself, "dropped the mask" she could see how there was much more in common between the two men then met the eye.

"No, don't worry, it's OK. I'll let you two share a bit of male bonding." She winked.

"Talking of bonding..."Wilson started with a questioning smile.

Cuddy –as much as she wanted to hide how happy she was about the latest developments in her relationship with House (and still wanting to replay the whole conversation in her mind in case she missed any loopholes before she let herself believe it)– just couldn't help blush and squeal in excitement. This was James after all: she wasn't going to hide it from him. He deserved knowing about it too, after all the bantering they'd put him through.

"Well...you know...after all, we kind of did make love in his head, so it's sort of a closed deal." And with that she jumped in his arm again, the both of them joining in a happy dance.


	4. Stripped walls

**So I wrote the next chapters in one go, in a few hours. There isn't much of a plot, it's just dialogues really. Just to feed my addiction until season 6 premiere. Do leave me reviews. If you like it say so! I can't really be bothered writing if only a handful of people seem to enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own bla bla...**

**Ratings: I don't know, I don't really understand the rating system going on here. In the UK it would be PG or maybe +12.**

4-

It was at seven on a Wednesday night that Wilson knocked on House's door at Mayfield Mental Institute. It was a small, simple, yet comfortable room: ochre walls, a single bed, a wooden desk and chair, and an armchair very much like the one House used to have in his office. There was no TV, but a window with a rather nice view on the institute's park and framed by blue curtains matching the bed covers. The thing Wilson didn't like was the floor, a white, rather tired plastic lino, the sort that would make even the nicest room feel small and stuffy. No personal objects whatsoever. As Wilson walked in, House stood up from the armchair by the window.

Both men were rather tensed and, after the short greetings, an awkward silence settled as they sat down, Wilson by the desk and House in the armchair. Wilson was expecting House to open up and tell him how he was doing, as he himself had no idea how to start off the topic. And it didn't help that House hardly took his eyes off some far-away point outside his window. But Wilson remembered the natural and almost enjoyable conversation they had had on the phone a few days ago and waited for his friend to be ready to talk.

Finally, suddenly, House stood up. "How about we go out for a walk in the park? It's a nice evening and I could really do with a bit of fresh air."

With a small smile and a nod, Wilson got up and followed House out of his room. He noticed how House's limp seemed stronger than before, how tightly his fingers were wrapped around the handle of the orthopedic cane the institute had provided him with. He couldn't help but notice how House winced openly every time his right foot touched the floor.

"Some days are harder than others. Today's a bad one." House explained, shooting Wilson an almost apologetical look. Of course, however subtle Wilson had been, House had sensed his wandering eyes on himself. Wilson didn't say anything and just nodded, wondering where his friend's aggressive provocation had gone. Little did he know that the next two hours would prove full of surprises.

The mental institution was rather quiet. Wilson knew they wouldn't have put him in the wing with the complete loonies. These were the rooms reserved for cases of mental break downs and harmless neurotics. In fact it was almost disappointingly too quiet. A white corridor, a series of white doors, all shut. A pair of mousy nurses came in and out of these doors, carrying trays laden with pills, jugs of water or cups of fruit purée. Very boring for anyone, let alone someone like House.

"It's not all that bad really. There's actually a piano just behind that door." House indicated a room on the left with his chin. "And this guy here" he pointed to another room "He's _really_ crazy", he added with a laugh.

Wilson wanted to know more about the piano, about this crazy guy, about the other people here, about his life in these rooms, how he was coping… but somehow the stark nakedness of these walls weren't fit for conversation. Which was kind of ironic, if you thought about it. They had to stop by the nurses' station, where House informed the chief nurse in charge that he was going out for a walk. The nurse, a cheery plump redhead, asked him how long he thought he might be and reminded him dinner would be served at 8.30, but apart from that she seemed rather happy that House was taking a walk. Wilson figured it wasn't something he did very often.


	5. What good is it to me?

5-

Both men unintentionally let out a sigh of something like relief when they finally came out into the institute's garden. Realizing that they both had almost been holding their breath, they quickly glanced at each other and laughed. They breathed in the cool air, taking in the view of the rose garden, the pebble promenade, the fountain in the centre and the tall trees in the very back. It was all a little bit fake-renaissance and cheap-looking really, but still nice. It had rained earlier in the day and it was a lovely dusk. It was the sort of evening that makes you feel very alive, and glad to be so.

There weren't many other people around. House gave a small wave to a young man seated on a bench a few meters away. "That's Jerry, broke up with his girlfriend after she almost emasculated him" House told Wilson once they had walked past him.

"Shouldn't the girlfriend be the one here then?" Wilson asked.

"It was Jerry's idea."

Wilson shuddered and House laughed, sympathizing with his friend's uneasiness.

"You get use to these stories really."He pointed to a bench in a tucked-away corner." Let's sit down. My leg's seriously killing me."

They sat down on the rather damp stone bench.

"I'm sorry about the leg." Wilson didn't really want to broach the topic, but he wanted to know what pain management program they had him on.

House sighed. "Yeah, well, as I've said, some days are worse than others. They give me pain killers with every meal and I can ask for a Vicodin when it gets really bad. I also get daily massages and acupuncture, but mostly I just have to suck the pain up." He gazed in the distance. "But honestly I thought it would be a lot worse. It was, at first. I couldn't do anything the first week. Just putting my foot on the floor was… "He shuddered, then shrugged, as if trying to get rid of the memory." My therapist wants me to go on this hydrotherapy program once I get out, so I'll see. That's not the real reason I'm here for, anyway. "Wilson knew he was alluding to the visions, the delusion, the general rather self-destructing behavior.

"But it's all linked to that really" Wilson was rather indignant that they didn't seem to treat his pain problem seriously and worried that his friend was in unnecessary pain.

"More or less. I mean, I've always been a good study case for a psych student" House laughed.

Wilson didn't seem to think it was that funny. "Come on. It's not like you're a crazy or anything. You're a medical genius! And you're functional: you get up, go to work, wash, feed yourself. I think they're not giving your pain issue enough attention."

House gave a soft snort "You _know_ I wasn't exactly healthy. Even long before the visions. I was hardly functional at all once _they_ kicked in, which was what brought me here. I still don't know what's due to the leg, the Vicodin, the fucked-up childhood or the general typical Gregory House behavior, but I'll get there, hopefully."

"You seeing a shrink?" Wilson asked.

House almost snapped: "You kidding me? That was the first thing they made me do. Of course I'm seeing a shrink." He gave his thigh a hard squeeze, shook his head against the pain. "I'm sorry. I guess I'm not used to having a normal conversation anymore."

"Normal?" Wilson paused. "House…you're not normal. I mean that as a good thing… I mean…whoever you are, whatever your problems, you are who you are, and that's not all bad. As long as you're healthy I mean. Not seeing dead people and imagining wild nights with your boss, and god knows what else." He sniggered and so did House. "You're an _exceptional_ being, and I don't use that word lightly. I just don't know anyone else like you. You're smart, and fun, and yes, you're a jerk to most people, but really there's more to you than just that." He stopped, not wanting to get too melodramatic, and rather expecting his best friend to make fun of his use of the emphatic_ 'exceptional'._

But House didn't make fun of him."Maybe" he started. "But what's the point if no one knows about it. What good is it to me? I don't want to be alone anymore, Wilson. I mean, no offense, you're here and all…"His voice trailed off. "But I've got to quit pushing everyone away, and I just don't know how to be any different. And if you think that's just the way I am, well…I'm screwed, aren't I?"

Wilson was truly touched. It was the first time House addressed his loneliness.

Both men stopped talking for a while, enjoying the falling of the night, thinking.


	6. It's not ok but you know it

**So as you've read in chapter 5, I'm not very good about medical issues, and I'm not really bothered about finding out about the alternatives to Vicodin. Hope it doesn't spoil it.**

6-

"But…" "Really…" They both started at the same time. They looked at each other, laughing lightly at how in-sync they were.

"You go" House said.

"No, no, what were you about to say?" asked Wilson.

"Come on, I already do most of the talking with my shrink, you go." House laughed.

"Ok" Wilson smiled. "I dunno, about being lonely I mean. You _are_ exceptional. But don't kid yourself, you're not the only one." They laughed. "You just gotta give other people a chance. You'd realize that we're not all idiots..."

House cut him before Wilson had finished making his point: "Is that really what you think of me?"

Wilson looked at him, puzzled.

"That I really think everyone else are just idiots?" House shook his head, as if pained. "You know, I thought you of all people would know… True, the intellectual abilities of most people do not fill me with love and faith in the human _genre_, especially clinic patients… "He smiled, trying to lighten the mood."But I know very well that most people who surround me, you, Cuddy, the team, the other doctors at the hospital, the other students at med school, heck, even some other kids in primary school… "Again he laughed and so did Wilson."…aren't morons. I don't despise any of you, even if that's what I might give off. In reality I envy you the fact that you're functional on an intellectual level _and_ an emotional one. Let's face it, I'm an emotional cripple. Feelings terrify me. I make fun of your neediness, your _puppiness_ –again they laughed–, but really I admire you for it. I crave for love, recognition, admiration… just like anyone else. I'm just too afraid to express anything other than…_jerkiness_." He waved the final word off, as if to say that it was the best word to sum it all up. "I thought I didn't. I thought I didn't want to be like everyone else; that I was happy to be on my own." He pointed to the brick building and the garden."Evidences to the contrary."

The long monologue was followed by an equally long silence from Wilson.

"I'm sorry. Evidently I'm in too deep here." Wilson sniggered awkwardly. "I'm not a shrink. I don't know what to say to all that you've said. I don't know whether you're really an emotional cripple, or why you might be like that. And I certainly don't know what you should do about it. I'm just talking as a friend here. I just meant that you shouldn't hate yourself for who you are. I'd hate it if you changed that. And I know for a fact that I'm not the only one who thinks that way. Everyone who works with you has to admit that you might be a jerk but you're a great one. We all know that your bantering is a form of love. "He laughed. "And it makes you so good at what you do. As to not wanting to be alone, well of course you're not alone, and I think that you're totally capable of maintaining a long-term relationship, of friendship or anything else for that matter, but you just _gotta_ let people in. As I've said I have no idea how it's done, my own intimacy and commitment problems are rather opposite yours. I like being intimate and committed too much, if you know what I mean." It was House's turn to laugh, thinking of his friend's many failed marriages. "And I do think that right now you don't give enough credit to your pain. How are you supposed to be nice, and friendly, and patient when you have to put up with so much pain on a constant basis? I don't think they're handling that quite well here."

Again, both men fell silent, only this time it was a peaceful, reflexive silence.

It was House who finally broke it. "Thanks. Really. If you can tell what a man is worth by the friends he has, well I must really be exceptional as you say, coz _you_ really are." He turned towards Wilson, smiled and gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. "How you are even sitting here and helping me out after what happened to Amber is still a mystery to me." Wilson tensed, not wanting to go there. But House needed to let it out. "You know, it's her I used to have hallucinations about. Well, and Kutner. But mainly her. Obviously that means something, although I don't really know what."

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not talk about her. I mean, we can talk about you having hallucinations, but I'd really not talk about Amber. That's something I keep for _my_ shrink."

"I'm sorry. I understand. I just wanted to apologize in a way, you know" House ventured.

"Yeah. But I'm not gonna say it's ok, 'cause it's not. Although it wasn't directly your fault, you were the reason she was on the bus. You screwed up big time. But you know it, so…"Wilson paused. "So much for not wanting to talk about it. I'm sorry."

"No, _I'm_ sorry" House insisted.

Slowly, awkwardly, they shared a gruff bear hug and then gave a low laugh.


	7. Just take care of yourself

7-

After a moment's silence, House suggested they walked back to his room. Once back in his room, after having had the chance to think about all that had been said and done in the garden, the atmosphere between them was a lot less tensed and cold than what it had been an hour and half prior.

"At times like these, I could really do with a nice cold beer" House said with a sigh.

"Tell me about it" laughed Wilson. "When you're leaving this place anyway?" After all, this was the question he had been burning to ask ever since he had walked in. Such a place didn't befit his best friend. Not at all.

"Ah, the big question. Soon, I think. My shrink says I'm pretty ripe." He laughed. "I still need to find a way to deal with the pain and to keep away from the Vicodin. The hallucinations are gone. So that's a relief. It's just I've started thinking about all those things now, and I don't know what to do about them. But obviously I'm not going to be able to do anything about my 'pushing people away ' issues locked up in here. So I'll need to get out sometime soon. Before this place _really_ drives me crazy." They laughed. For the moment I'm just content seeing my shrink and figuring things out. "

"That's the big question: 'Who am I? What am I? Where am I going?' " He laughed." But don't worry, no one actually finds the answer to these.

Another silent.

House broke it: "How are _you_ anyway? It's just me these days. Everything okay at the hospital? How are you cancer kids? How's your _luuuuv_ life?" He winked.

Wilson laughed good-heartedly, recognizing his friend's bantering. "I'm fine. Work is the same, you know. The team's doing good, under Foreman's lead. Pretty sure him and Thirteen have split up though. Chase and Cameron are sickingly happy."

"Cuddy?" House asked.

"Cuddy, hey?" Wilson laughed. "She's doing fine. It's hard managing a hospital and raising a baby on your own, but she's strong, we know that. We didn't really talk about what had happened to you before the phone call the other day. I mean, she'd ask me if I had any news and I would tell her anything I knew but we didn't talk about why or how it had happened. I guess she still feels guilty about some things. And we both felt bad about the fact that we hadn't seen it coming, you know. We had no idea what you were going through. I should have seen the signs. I mean, such a quick detox…"

"Yeah, well, no one could know, not even me, so…" House cut in.

"I'll keep a closer eye on you in the future, anyway." Wilson laughed. "If Cuddy lets me, that is." He winked. "I have the feeling she wants you all for herself." He laughed some more.

House raised an interrogative eyebrow. "Yes?"

"Yes!" Wilson laughed. "I'm pretty sure you couldn't screw this one up, even if you tried."

"Yeah, I still need to figure how I'm gonna manage it."

Wilson was worried all of a sudden: "What do you mean? You are going to give this a try, aren't you?" He looked quite panicked.

"If that's what she wants. I'm talking of my general 'I don't know how to show people I care' problem" offered House.

Wilson was visibly relieved. "Well, take the time you need." And then, as an afterthought: "But not too long, we really do miss you."

"Ok, ok, Mr Puppylove, that's enough." House laughed.

Wilson joined in, shrugging. "Time for me to go anyway. It was nice seeing you. You seem to be doing good. Keep up the good work with the shrink."

"I will." They hugged for the second time this evening.

"See you soon outside."

"Yes."

"Let me know the day you leave, I'll come take you home" suggested Wilson.

"Ok. Thanks. Say hi to Cuddy. Don't say anything to the rest, if they ask, just don't mention you saw me. I still don't know how I'm going to handle them."

"Ok" agreed Wilson, opening the door to House's room "But don't worry too much about it. Just…"He paused. "Just take of yourself, ok?"

"Same to you" smiled House.

And with that, Wilson stepped out and closed the door to his friend's room.


	8. Ready

8-

It had been two weeks since Wilson's visit. House had kept busy, with the acupuncture and massage sessions in the morning and the shrink sessions in the afternoon. He had also taken to a late afternoon stroll in the park. He had got another call from Wilson and one from his mother who had managed to track him down after over a month without any news whatsoever. He had been honest to her and told her _almost_ everything, and she had freaked out of course. He could tell the news had caused her a lot of pain and worry, and he was sorry about it, but he had asked her not to contact him anymore for the time being and promised he would do as soon as he felt ready. She hadn't understood of course, she didn't see how she might be partly responsible for the situation her son found himself in. House just wasn't ready to confront her. At night sometimes he thought about asking her about his real father one day, but this was definitely not a conversation he wanted to have on the phone. He hadn't talked to Cuddy since the last time on the phone with Wilson, and he was grateful for it. It's not that he didn't want to hear from her, and he did miss her voice and wittiness a lot, but he appreciated that she could respect the fact that he needed time.

Today he was ready. He had talked with his shrink and the medical staff and everyone agreed that he was ready to leave the mental institute. The visions were gone, they had been no other delusions and lately he had even managed to sleep 6 hours in a row. Most of the time he still needed sleeping pills though. They had finally upped his daily intake of pain medicines, after explaining that keeping him in a state of reasonable pain was part of the therapy. It was supposed to take his mind away from other things and make him understand what was real constant pain. House thought it was a ridiculous load of bullshit but he hadn't said anything. At least these days he was in much less pain than when Wilson had visited. They kept him on a regime of varying chemical molecules so that his body wouldn't grow used to one in particular.

He had actually delayed his departure as much as he could, until the staff pretty much kicked him out. It was crucial that he didn't shut himself completely in the isolation of his room, however comfortable and reassuring it might be, and face the real world again. Of course House was bored to the core, but he was also terrified at the prospect of finding himself on his own outside and having to work on being happy. He had no idea where to start. But he was going to take it one step at a time. Keeping away from the Vicodin and not upping his painkillers was going to be hard too, but he had travelled far enough to know that he didn't want to go back to being an addict. He knew that in many ways the next few days were going to be a big test. And, as he stepped into the taxi without looking back at Mayfield Mental Institute, he felt ready to take this test.


	9. Something like relief

_Ok so the latest chapter and this one, let's face it not much happens. It's just that I'm interested with House's psychology and the way he interacts with the people around him more than anything else._

_Oh, and Huddy should be on it's way soon. Yay!_

9-

He found his flat as he had left it. Wilson had suggested having the cleaner come once a week just to make sure the flat would be nice and clean when he came back, but House had wanted the place to remain unchanged, and clean and tidy it himself once he got back. It would be a therapy of some sort.

And the place did need a lot of tidying. He looked around at what had been his home for many years now and although it felt very familiar it also felt like the day he had last been in these rooms was a very long time ago. He shut a few painful memories he didn't want to remember and, running his finger through the layer of dust coating the piano, and eyeing a cobweb in a corner of the ceiling, he decided he would settle upon tidying the place straight away. He opened all the windows to let the light and the fresh air in. He had a look in the fridge, to see if he might be able to find something to appease his growling stomach. No surprise there: his fridge was empty, apart from a few beers. He decided he would order something to eat once he had cleaned the flat. It would serve as an incentive, but the truth is he didn't feel like sitting down to eat on his own in such a gloomy flat.

In the living room, he gathered the empty glasses and the occasional empty beer bottles he found on the coffee table, the bookshelves and by the piano, and took them to the kitchen. He came face to face with a gross empty carton of Chinese food under the couch and threw it away. Under a pillow on his couch he unearthed a t-shirt. He swiped the coffee table and the piano clean, gathered the mail on the floor and stacked it in a neat pile on the chest of drawers by the door. He placed the stray books in the bookcase and made another pile of the few medical journals and newspapers scattered about the room. He went to his bedroom and opened the windows, then stripped the bed of its covers. He put them in the washing machine, along with the few discarded items of clothing he had found. He got the vacuum cleaner and ran it in all the rooms. He put clean sheets on his bed and started the washing machine.

It wasn't much and it hadn't taken him more than an hour and a half, but he felt drained when he sat down on his couch. He called his cleaning lady to arrange for her to come the next day to clean the floors, the windows and dust everything thoroughly. And then, the pain in his leg slowly seeping back, he realized that if the detox had been a delusion, the whole flat must still be peppered with Vicodin containers. Sure enough, he found an orange box full of the little white pills in the small wooden box by the couch. He got a small plastic bag from the kitchen and went through all his Vicodin hide-outs. He found 12 orange containers and felt feverish until he had gone out and thrown the now bulging plastic bag in the nearest public bin. The morphine he decided to keep. He would hand it to Wilson to have him give it to him in the eventuality of the pain really getting out of control. Finally he sat back down on his couch, with something like relief at having found the strength to throw away his entire stack of pills, and called to have a fish taco delivered. With 15 minutes to wait until his lunch got there, he limped to the bathroom to take a shower that would hopefully clear the last fogs hovering in his brain.

Standing naked in front of the first full mirror he had seen in weeks –there weren't any in Mayfield, he figured out of consideration for patients with eating disorders– he realized for the first time what a toll his body had taken lately. He had lost a lot of weight. The small pot belly that had started appearing in the last year was now completely gone, but so was quite a lot of his muscle. He was still in really good shape and firm in all the right places but his arms were definitely thinner, making his shoulders seem even broader. The stoop in his standing seemed to have accentuated and with his very short and now fully grey hair he realized how much older he looked. He stared at himself for a full minute, finding it hard to believe this person in the mirror was truly him. Fortunately he was now better equipped for facing such a painful discovery as that of being a man in his fifties –and truly looking the part. He stepped into the shower, promising himself this was the first day of the rest of his life. Corny, but it did the trick.

Pretty soon he was sighing contently, about to take a huge bite of a well-deserved fish taco.


	10. Her addiction

**Sorry for taking so long to update. I don't have a real blueprint for this, I just write as it comes. This chapter I had more or less written a few weeks back but got caught up in real life and summer hollidays ;-) .I finally decided to finish it and post it after getting another nice review yesterday. And I watched the season 6 preview and I can't wait for september 21st! Not liking the blonde-bob thing House kisses though... But we knew they would just take Huddy away anyway. Won't happen here, I promise! So, hope you enjoy it...**

**And, as always, R&R please!**

10

Things hadn't been easy lately for Lisa Cuddy. Sure, life as a single mom never is easy. And it doesn't get any easier when you're also in charge of a whole hospital. But she was tough, and she had always managed to keep her chin up. House's breakdown was a turning point. It was a major event for him of course, but it also deeply affected the people who cared for him, namely herself and Wilson. She had known people who had stepped over the cliff of mental sanity to never come back, and she was terrorised at the thought that maybe House would never be the same again.

At first she would turn and toss in her bed at night, and during daytime her eyes would suddenly cloud over and she'd subconsciously wry her hands thinking about him in the psychiatric hospital.

Then she had felt guilty about what had happened to House. She couldn't help but think that she had not seen the signs, that she hadn't helped him enough with his pain issue, that she had turned him down when he had needed her.

And then she decided there was no point in letting guilt eat at her. She knew deep down she wasn't the cause of House's addiction and breakdown. And, somehow, maybe all this was a good thing. The things that had been gnawing at him for such a long time had now been brought kicking and screaming into the open. He was forced to face his demons. It would be painful but she trusted he would come out of it. There was no telling in what state, though. The way she looked at it, the only thing she could do was to take care of herself in the meantime and make sure he knew she'd be there for him whenever and for whatever he might need her

When she reached that point several weeks later and after talking to him on the phone, she had more or less managed to rid herself of fear and guilt and was left with a peculiar feeling. Whenever her thoughts drifted off to him she would feel a tender heat in the pit of a stomach, a certain soft numbness irradiating through all her limbs, and suddenly all her senses achingly longed for his presence, the sound of his voice, the scent of his after-shave, the radiant blue of his eyes, the sheer magnetism of his presence. It was soft and yet so painful. The first time it happened really startled Cuddy. She wasn't used to feeling this way, and was quite sure the last time she had had butterfly in her stomach was in high school. What was it? What did it mean? At first she tried kidding herself that it was just her hormones turning her into a big softie. But, as it happened more and more often, and always when something reminded her of him, she could no longer deny that she physically missed him to the point that it was actually painful. She had smiled alone in her bed one night realizing he was her addiction.

Now that she knew he had done detoxing and was seeing a psychotherapist regularly, and after Wilson had told him that, from what he'd seen, House had lost none of his wittiness and of his brilliant intelligence, she found herself impatiently waiting –her body physically aching– for the day he would call and say he was back in town.


	11. Surprise, surprise

11

He had played a little piano and gone through some of his childhood pictures. He had called Wilson in his office to let him know he was back in Mayfield. He had asked him not to tell Cuddy if he happened to bump into her. It wasn't that he was vain enough to actually do her the surprise of showing up on her doorstep, but well, he was really. He wanted to be there when she got the news, if only for the reason that her face at that moment would tell her more about how she felt for him than anything she could say on the phone. Wilson told him to wear his baby blue shirt, the one that really made the blue of his eyes stand out. Honestly sometimes House wondered about Wilson's sexual orientation. But then he himself was the man who was going to follow his best buddy's clothing advice to pay a visit to the woman he had an interest in –he couldn't get his head to saying he might love her–so who was he to talk. They had chatted easily, laughed and mused about the turn events would take in the next few days both in the sentimental and professional areas of House's life. House had half-jokingly declared to a somewhat alarmed Wilson that if things with Cuddy didn't turn out he would move in with Wilson. It had been a joke of some type but House was really terrified at the idea of finding himself alone again. Cross that out, he was really terrified at the idea of things not working out with Cuddy. Truth is he'd rather spend the rest of his life alone than with anyone else. Was that really him thinking? Did he really see himself spending the rest of his life with her? If they could keep up the bantering and the power struggle and add great sex, then yes, certainly. Deep down House knew that more than sex, what he really wanted tonight was to make sure she didn't just see him as a physically and emotionally damaged man who had just spent two months in a mental institute. Pity was definitely not a turn on. He had decided to be honest and sincere with her. He had nothing more to offer to her than what he was. What you see is what you get. He planned on laying everything out for her to take it or leave it. That alone was a scary thought, never mind what he would do if she decided she didn't like what she saw. How was he to find the words? How could he make her understand he wanted her without sounding needy? How _does_ one bare his soul?

As he put on his bike jacket and checked himself in the mirror one last time –the shirt really did wonders for his eyes– he felt like a child again, a small blond child about to jump in the deep end of the swimming pool.

*************************************************************************************************************************************************

Cuddy had come home to her little girl and spent a long time baby-talking to her. She had always promised she wouldn't be that kind of mom, but Rachel was just too cute. There was plenty of time to tell her about what life was really like anyway. So she had lain on the rug by the little girl and had echoed the tiny squeals of delight and the ohs? and ahs? of puzzlement as her daughter inspected her toys. She was quite fascinated by the way the toddler looked at things. To her, everything was brand new. It made Cuddy quite nostalgic.

After she had put Rachel to bed and finished her supper, she poured herself a nice glass of red Bordeaux wine and went to her living room, sliding Springsteen's last album in the CD player and reclining back in her couch. She sat there listening to the music and drinking small sips of wine. It definitely wasn't the best Springsteen had ever done, and yet she was touched by the way he talked about love and time. "Honey you're my lucky day, I've lost all the other bets I've made" was a line that really got to her. And then of course there was the " I've waited at your side, I've carried the tears you've cried, But to win, darlin' we must play, So don't hide your heart away". She liked young angsty Bruce better than 60, happily-married and slightly corny Springsteen but she had to admit there was a certain someone to which she would like to sing those lines.

She must have dozed off for the next thing she knew Bruce had sang his way to one of the last songs of the album, "Surprise, surprise". She wasn't quite sure what had awoken her. Had she really heard a knock on the door, or was she just obeying Bruce's words of "Surprise, surprise, surprise come on open your eyes and let you love shine down"? But then she heard it again. There was definitely someone knocking at her door. There was only person whom it could be. Suddenly her heart was racing and she found herself opening her front door, not even taking a second to marvel at the Boss's exceptional timing.

**Hehe what a cliffie! So I hope you like it. I'm a huge Bruce fan and my hometown is beautiful French Bordeaux, so you know where this is coming from :) I hope none of you feels like I've been dragging this Huddy reunion for ages. Truth is I don't really know what to do with it. I fear it might be the end of my fic coz I don't want to write plain Huddy fluff and yet I don't want it to be the end, I've enjoyed writing a lot... I can see why the writers won't give us Huddy really. Can't blame them, although I do feel like strangling them after seeing the season 6 preview. Anyway. I'm not quite sure when I'll post the next chapter, but do not fear, Huddy believer, your patience will be rewarded.**


	12. It's hard to tell you this

**Hello there! So I told you your patience would be rewarded! I finally managed to find how I wanted the reunion to happen. I guess the first episodes of season 6 unlocked something. I think I like my own take on things better though :) . SPOILER ALERT But actually I liked the thing with Franka Potente, I thought that it made sense and that it was a nicely done sex scene (although I'm a bit of a prude). Ohhh and I really like the "Lady, kiss her or leave!" scene! Yay!  
**

**So there you go. I think there'll be an epilogue to this, but anyway you can read about what happens later on in my other fics.**

**Enjoy!**

Sure enough, it was him standing on her porch in his baby blue shirt and leather jacket, his helmet under his arm and leaning slightly on his cane.

He looked at her expectantly, as if he had just performed a magical trick by appearing on her doorstep. She took the sight of him in, smiling.

"What, you're not surprised to see me?"

"I knew it was you" she said softly, a wide smile on her lips but her eyes shiny.

"Damn female intuition. So you're not even taken aback by my new hairstyle? I'm going for the older and wiser look."

"I can tell" she answered provocatively. He really did look older and wiser. And hot.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he pretended to be offended.

She laughed "Well, you brought it up."

He smiled broadly "Come here" he said, pulling her gruffly against him.

The least that can be said was that she was surprised by the gesture. Physical intimacy wasn't something either of them was used to. And she had never seen House initiate a hug before. That he was able to do that told her a lot about how changed he was. Maybe he was ready to let someone in? Finally she stopped analysing and revelled in the feel of his arms around her waist, the way his breath tickled the top of her head, the smooth muscular tranquillity she could sense under his shirt and the smell of his cologne. They stayed that way for a few minutes, neither of them wanting to break off the moment by talking or pulling away, both content in feeling the other so close. He knew this hug didn't replace the conversation they needed to have, but right now it was all he wanted. He had missed her so much. He leaned in, resting his chin on the top of her head, and filled his lungs with her scent. It felt so right. And yet he couldn't resist playing a trick on her.

"Right, see you. I just wanted to say 'hi' "He pretended to turn around and leave.

"House! Don't run aw..."

He turned around again with a wide grin. She understood he had never meant to leave.

His trick had broken the intensity of the moment, providing some sort of comical relief which suited them both perfectly.

She sighed and smiled "Why am I surprised? Come in."

House stepped inside, closed the door behind him, hung his jacket and helmet on the coat rack and followed Cuddy towards the kitchen. He left the cane in the hall too."You had something to eat?" she asked him over her shoulder.

"No, but that's not what I came for." She rooted about in her cupboards anyway, having decided she was going to fix him a sandwich. He looked quite skinny and pale and feeding the people she loved was part of who she was.

"No? Well, what _did_ you come for?" she asked playfully.

"It depends on what you want." He answered with a straight face while she spread mustard on a slice of rye bread.

"What are my options?" she raised an eyebrow at him.

"With House, or _sans_ House."

"So, all or nothing." She laid a few wafers of ham onto the bread.

"I'm a handful" he said as a way of explanation.

"Don't I know it." She sliced a tomato up and laid a few slices of it on the ham. He watched as she topped it with lettuce, then closed the sandwich, cut it in half and slid it upon a plate.

He reached to her and turned her around softly, forcing her to face him."What are you doing ? I never said I was hungry" he asked in a voice mocking exasperation.

"It's something to do" she said, almost apologizing, looking into his eyes, her own still shiny. He understood her making the sandwich was her way of de-dramatizing the moment. He could see she too was a little afraid of what was to come out of this visit. She was afraid of being hurt again. He bent his head towards hers.

"Lisa Cuddy, when did my mere person stop being enough for you?" he whispered inches from her lips.

Her heart suddenly started racing, her mouth became dry and she couldn't take her eyes off his. No words could escape her mouth. But he didn't push forward.

"I mean it. I need to know where you want this to go", he whispered, encircling his arms around her.

Still she didn't answer: she remained silent and immobile, staring at him as if spell-bound. She was excited and yet terrified: what if she opened up to him, and he shut her out again? He seemed to have changed, but a voice inside her told her to remain on guard. If not for herself then at least for Rachel she had to keep a level head and make sure he wouldn't break her into a zillion pieces yet again.

"It's hard to tell you this...I've changed, I'm better and I want to get happy. I'm just not sure there's room for someone else."

Her heart shrunk, so he _was_ pulling away! He was doing it again. "So it's not a matter of what I want, more like what _you _want" she snapped. She made as if to step away from his embrace.

"No, no" he argued as he tightened his grasp around her. "No", he whispered, pacifying her." I _do_ want you in my life. If you want me", he added, even lower, as if ashamed.

There was a few seconds' silence during which Cuddy pondered. Was she absolutely sure she wanted him? Could she take the chance of having her heart broken again? Was she ready to let him in his life for good? Of course she was, she had always known she was. But could she trust him? She lifted his chin so that his eyes looked into hers. In the startlingly blue eyes she saw nothing but honesty and, yes, a light that shone like love.

"Don't you know it?" Her voice was calm and expressed her surprise at the fact that he had never been able to read into her." I want you. I always have."

He nodded almost imperceptibly: "This isn't going to be easy, I'm a mess, and I need to pick up the pieces."

"And I want to be there for you."

"I'm worried it might be unfair on you, I mean you've got the hospital and Rachel, I don't want to be a weight...And what if it doesn't work? I'm not sure I could take it." He whispered, almost on the verge of tears.

"Why don't you stop analysing everything, leave some space for romance", she said softly, her voice a mere whisper. Slowly, their heads moved closer. Tentatively, their lips made a first contact. Then the lips parted and their tongues began a smooth and passionate dance which lasted a long minute. When he pulled away, both were a little out of breath.

"Kiss me like that again and I'll leave space for anything you want." He whispered with a smile, before leaning in for another kiss.

She was now giving him small nippy kisses, on his lips, his cheekbones, his eyes. She pulled back to take a better look at him. She cupped his jaw with her right hand, stroking his hair and ear with her left.

"God, I missed you" she whispered. "I missed you so much. I was so worried. I was so scared House." Her voice quivered.

"I know, I know" He tried to appease her. "I'm ok. I'm going to be ok."

At that moment she opened up to him, at last telling him in a few words what she had wanted to tell him for months. She had to get it off her chest. She wasn't looking for absolution but believed he deserved an explanation."I'm sorry I left you that night. I wish I had been there for you. I had no idea how bad you were." The tears welled up in her eyes as she sunk her head onto his chest.

"Lisa, look at me" She lifted her eyes towards him. He took both her hands in his, pressing them to his mouth. "I didn't deserve you to take care of me. It would've all been wrong. And we'd be in the same spot, if not worst. I'm glad you stood up to me and decided you wouldn't take it anymore. You have nothing to be sorry about. I mean it."

"Ok" She bit her lip, suppressing the tears. She raised a hand and began stroking the stubble on his jaw line."Still, you shouldn't feel ashamed about hallucinating that night between us, god knows I fantasised about it a million times" she smiled. "I should have told you how I felt, things were so weird between us because it never was clear."

"You tried. And I never knew how to handle it. I was ill, my brain was sick..."

"Yes, your genius brain was sick" she kissed the top of his head lovingly. "But I should have told you. Told you how I wanted you. I hadn't realised how much you were hurting."

"I'm only starting to realise it now" he bent down and grazed her neck with his lips.

She hummed with pleasure and whispered in his ear: "Let me be there for you. I want to show you how you deserve to be loved. I want to show how much I love you."

Their mouths found each other, and from then on the love they started in the kitchen and then took to the bedroom grew stronger with each passing day.

**I should tell you I wrote this chapter listening to Gaslight's Anthem "Here's looking at you, kid", an absolutely amazing song.**

**Reviews are bliss.**


	13. Epilogue

Epilogue AftM

She woke up with somebody's arm resting on her thigh and when she remembered whose it was she smirked. She turned round careful not to wake him and indulged in the pleasure of watching him sleep. He was on his stomach, his face tilted towards her and snoring lightly.

What a weird thing to wake up next to him. She had dreamed of it many times. And now here she was, in her bed, and so was he. Yet she could never have imagined the circumstances which were to bring them together. She studied the lines on his face, thinking of all he'd been through in the past months. Heck, all he'd been through most of his life. She didn't want to turn him into a martyr, but she couldn't deny he hadn't had the easiest life. Flashes of last night came back to her. The scar was horrendous, deep ridges of thick skin colliding into another. It felt rough and cold and hard and yet so fragile and exposed, and –in its own gnarled way– beautiful. She was thinking how very symbolic of House's character the scar was when she heard Rachel wake up on the baby monitor. Taking one last look at him she swiftly got out of bed and headed to her daughter's room.

House woke up a mere minutes later and instantly realised the presence he had been feeling by his side all night was now gone. He sat up and sank back down again as he remembered where he was and what had happened last night. He smiled and moved to the edge of the bed. As he pushed himself up he suddenly felt dizzy and had to sit down again. He cursed himself for leaving his cane in the hall. The pain was always worse in the morning. Plus he had skipped a meal and the night hadn't truly been restful. He smiled as some vivid details came to his mind. He wanted to be back by her side as soon as possible. He massaged his leg and got up, still slightly light-headed, heading for the bathroom. He peed, and, and as he went to wash his hands, he saw on the shelf above the sink a stick of lip make-up exactly similar to the one he had been hallucinating about and had turned out to be in fact a vial of Vicodin. The symbol of his hallucination. He picked it up and stared at it. Suddenly he was invaded by a thousand random images and sounds – scenes with or without Cuddy, in the hospital or in Mayfield. Then he saw Amber, and Kutner, and Wilson, and his mom and dad– the images were flashes, churning, turning, faster and faster. His head was swimming. He groped the sink for support. The voices were now inhumanly high-pitched screams. His skull seemed to split open in a tremendous headache, he felt a clammy perspiration all over his body, while from the scar shot flames of pain whose electric charge he could actually feel go up to his brain and back down through the nerves to every single cell of his body. He started shaking violently and, finally, in a spasm of incredible violence, he threw up.

* * *

Hunched over the sink, gasping for air, House came to. Barely aware of what he was doing, he wiped the vomit from his mouth with the back of his hand and sat on the edge of the tub. He was panting heavily and his heart was beating so fast it was almost deafening. His whole body was drenched in sweat. It took him several minutes to recover but the flashes and screams had now gone, taking away the splitting migraine. He tried not to panic. What _was _that? What had just happened? Was it just seeing the lipstick or was there a physiological cause? "What's wrong with me? "For a moment he really had thought this was it, curtain call, he was dying. Actually, the pain was so complete and unbearable he had _wanted _to die. He shivered as the perspiration cooled off. Slowly, painfully, he got up from the edge of the tub. He was left with a horrible taste in his mouth and a sink full of sick. He numbly rinsed it away, brushed his teeth and –his head still dizzy– stepped in the shower. The hot water brought him back to life and he stood there for a while, both his brain and body still numb from the fit. When he walked back to the bedroom his eyes fell on the vial of ibuprofen. Was that the cause? Was he reacting to the ibuprofene? But he had been taking it for some time now and ibuprofene was unlikely to have such side effects. Sure, his sugar was low because he had skipped dinner last night but surely that wouldn't cause an attack of flashbacks resulting in his stomach emptying itself? Was it a bug? No known bug could trigger something like that. So what was going on? Was his brain frying up? And what did it mean about him and Cuddy? Was it a physical reaction to being with her? Could he never be happy? Should he just walk out now, before both of them got hurt? He sank back on the bed and was both angry and on the verge of tears. Was he ever going to get out of this?

No. No he wasn't going to give up that easily. He wasn't going to read into what had happened anymore than what it was: a spell of dizziness triggered by a vivid memory and worsened by a weak blood-sugar level and a queasy stomach. Or maybe the ultimate stage of Vicodin detox. Or maybe something terrible and lethal -he laughed at the irony. He wanted this. He wanted to wake up and hear Cuddy feed her baby downstairs. He had felt dizzy and rightly so: the distance he had covered in the last months was vertiginous. She was there for him: she had proved it last night. He wanted her. He couldn't be happy without her. Heck, he couldn't survive without her. He shook himself together, got up, got dressed and made it downstairs.

He walked into the kitchen where Cuddy, after having made sure her daughter had had enough toast and banana, was now enjoying her own breakfast, sipping at a cup of tea and browsing through the newspaper. The toddler clapped and cheered when House came in. Cuddy turned around and instantly House saw the worry in her eyes. But he knew it wasn't pity.

"Greg, you okay?" She got up and went to him, placing her arm under his own, as if he was about to fall. "You look so pale, are you okay?" there was almost panic in her voice. Thank god she hadn't been there when he threw up.

"I'm fine, I just repainted your bathroom in a lovely shade of _puke_." Her face twisted in a revolted mimic, which was what he wanted. Deflect, always. "You might want to change house. Literally" he added, as an after-thought.

But she didn't pick up on that, too worried that he had been sick. "What happened?"

"Lisa, how much detail do you want? I got up, peed, and threw up. It was yellow and lumpy. I swear it had carrot chunks in it although it's weeks since I last ate carrots–

"Ok, ok, spare me _those_ details, please!"

They sat down at the table. Should he tell her about the lipstick, the voices, the dizziness? What purpose would it serve, apart from making her worry? But wasn't she entitled to know?

"Maybe you were just weak. Maybe you got a stomach bug. It's been around a lot recently." She was frantic for an explanation.

"Yes " he agreed, knowing very well it was more than that. He decided never to tell her how scared he had been half-an-hour ago. "I was probably just dizzy from not having anything to eat last night. Plus, all that mind-blowing sex last night." He smiled at her, reassuringly. "I'm sure it's nothing." He took her hand in his.

But she didn't smile. "Are you sure? Don't lie to me." She paused, realizing that wasn't a very nice thing to say. She looked into his eyes. "I mean, you're not hiding anything from me, are you? Unwanted side-effects? Hallucinations? Bouts of dizziness? Doubts?"

"No. No I'm not having doubts. Honestly." He squeezed her hands and reached for her lips. She chose to believe him.

Instantly she melted into him, wrapping him up in her arms. How he loved it when she did that."Ok, sorry. I'm sorry I doubted you." House felt a pang of remorse at not telling her. He loved her so much he couldn't bear to cause her worry. He held her close.

"Slept ok?" she asked him.

"Like a baby– speaking of which, why is yours staring at me right now?"

They turned around towards Rachel and sure enough, there she was, mouth open, a piece of soggy toast in her hand, staring at them.

Cuddy laughed, rather uneasy. "I don't know...You know, she's not used to men. Your voice is probably fascinating to her."

"As is the realisation that you're not just her mother but also a woman and a lover."

"Yes, and _that_" said Cuddy, not really believing that a baby could work out such things.

"They see everything you know. They're so creepy" added House, still staring at Rachel staring at him.

"What? No!" erupted Cuddy, offended. She playfully slapped his arm. "She's not creepy, she's cute. She's just getting to know you."

"By staring. Which, by the way, is very much like you." He turned his attention back to Cuddy. "I can _hear_ you staring at me, even while I'm asleep."

Cuddy giggled "I _did_ not stare at you. Well, ok, maybe just a little." They kissed. "Can you blame me? Now about some breakfast Mr "I'm skinny and I skip meals"? What would you like?" She got up.

"Well I'm not exactly feeling hungry right now but I guess I should eat something" he mumbled." It's ok, you enjoy your breakfast, I can get my own." But Cuddy refused, arguing he was obviously not well. "Cuddy, I mean it. I'm fine. Enjoy what little time for yourself you've got. I can pour myself a cup of coffee." He got up and she sat back down again, turning in her seat and not letting him out of her sight until she was sure he was steady on his feet. She knew it was important she didn't treat him like a cripple or a child. He moved swiftly from cupboard to shelf to fridge, never once hesitating in the location of the items he was looking for.

"How do you know my kitchen so well?" She was astonished.

House just laughed and shrugged. "I've got good observation skills."

"Talk about creepy."

She shrugged and turned back in her seat redirecting her attention to Rachel who had stopped gaping and was now conscientiously mashing up the last bits of banana on her plate into lumps, before proceeding to rub it in her hair. "Oh, sweetie, don't do that. Come on, Rachel, you were all nice and clean... Banana is food, food is not for play." She lifted the infant out of the chair, wiped the banana and toast off her face, kissed the tip of her sticky nose, and settled back down in her chair with Rachel in her lap. House sat at the table with a mug of black coffee and a stack of toast layered with peanut butter and jelly. "This should get my GI up again."

Rachel resumed staring at him. "Stop staring, didn't anyone tell you it was rude?" House pretended he was annoyed, but really Cuddy could tell he thought it was quite funny.

"Well, you two haven't been properly introduced." She picked the child up and turned her around so that mother and daughter were looking at each other."Rachel, this is Greg. He is a bit cranky, and yes, he's a _man_" She pretended to pull a face" but we like him." She smiled at House. "Greg, this is Rachel, she doesn't do much except eat, poop and cry but she's very cute."

House nodded, busy with his breakfast. This baby thing was making him a bit uneasy. So, was he a family now? He pretended to be interested in the newspaper.

Cuddy sensed his uneasiness and didn't say anything for a while. Polishing off her own breakfast with a squirming baby on her lap was already getting most of her attention. Finally she said: "I'd better go get ready, the sitter will be there any minute and I'm already late."

House looked up "I was gonna say! Did you get sloppy in my absence?"

She smiled at his deflecting. There was a short silence and then she asked "Are you coming with me to the hospital?"

"Oh– uh, no– I'm not starting up work again.

Cuddy looked somewhat disappointed.

"Not just yet. I don't feel like I'm ready. I've got stuff to work on."

"I understand."

"I'm not sure I want to work there again."

"Oh."

"And it would make things easier for us! No employee/employer nasty business." He was trying to convince her that his not coming back to Princeton would be a good thing.

She was silent. "But you are going to pick up medicine at some point?"

"Yes, at some point. I think. I don't know, Lisa." She could hear the frustration in his voice.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be intrusive. I understand you don't feel ready. It's just, I'm not sure you ought to quit being a doctor. It's who you are."

"I'm not quitting. Being a doctor is all I can do! Don't worry, honestly. It's the least of my problems right now."

She raised an interrogative eyebrow at him. He hadn't meant to let her hear that. He didn't want to mention the incident in the bathroom. "I mean, you know, shrink sessions and pain management. And maybe seeing my mom."

She smiled. "That sounds like a plan. I'm sorry. You're a grown-up, you can make your own choices, I wasn't trying to pry you open. I was just worried. But I see I don't need to, you know what you're doing." He nodded and she leaned over to kiss him over Rachel's head.

"Right, I'd better go get ready. Can you look after Rachel, if I put her in her play pen? Luna should be here anytime now."

"You place your child in the care of a person called 'Luna'?" He shook his head in disbelief. "Sure I can look after her, probably better than that Luna person can, too."

"Don't get in too deep here, I might take your word for it. Inside this cute baby girl is a right little devil!" Cuddy tickled Rachel, who erupted in a peal of laughter. House had to admit she was cute. Cuddy caught that instant on his face. "She is, isn't she?"

"Huh?" House looked back at her.

"Cute" she said with a victorious smile as she got up and placed Rachel in her nearby play pen. She walked back towards the stairs and, upon passing him, said: "And so are you!", swiftly bending down to kiss him on the top of his head. He attempted to drag her down on his lap but she escaped, giggling and running towards the stairs. Soon he heard cupboards and drawers open and close. Then he heard the shower. He knew Cuddy was putting on her sexy power suit. And that he'd be walking out with her at his arms in a few minutes, immensely proud of her looks. And yet he had found her more desirable even at breakfast, in her pyjamas and without any make-up. He smiled. He really had her under his skin. He finished his toast, cleared his things away and went to sit in the living room next to Rachel's play pen. She looked at him and handed him a rubber giraffe. "Why a giraffe? Are you trying to say something?" In House's mind everything made sense, nothing was coincidental, and so he had asked Rachel. But maybe it wasn't so for a child. He realised how refreshing that could be.


End file.
